Second Star to the Right
by Zarius
Summary: When Hollywood starlet Rachel Trix is abducted, her old friend and entertainment journalist Clint West does all he can to rescue her, only to hamper the efforts of a Centurion looking over her, but what makes Rachel a big enough case to warrant their involvement? Tagging along with Jake, Clint soon bumps into a face from his past...


** CENTURIONS:**

**SECOND STAR TO THE RIGHT**

**WRITTEN BY ZARIUS**

The blackened sky was alight with a twinkling strand of silver stars. However, this was a night designed for a different kind of silver…the silver screen. And It's stars, the most desirable men and women of modern times, were to twinkle like no other tonight.

High above Los Angeles, was the Staples Blimp, a luxurious air hotel, carrying the cream of the cinematic crop. It had been host to a gala screening of the year's big summer sell, "_The Wire In The Eye_". It starred a lot of bankable names, but none as bankable as Rachel Trix.

Rachel was Hollywood's latest weapon against a cynical and overly critical world. In a time where movies are seen as not being good enough for a world so used to being bombarded with a reality far grimmer and more compelling, than the most expensive science-fiction thriller, blonde and beautiful Rachel has been able to bedazzle the masses.

Her "girl next door" view of love, her high school babe good looks, and her wise-cracking sense of wit opened up a lot of dead eyes and hearts, reigniting them with sparks of hope and joy, they could believe in a fantasy again thanks to her, and through that belief, the rest of the fantasy thrived.

Cinema's a funny old beast…just when you think there's no magic left, something comes along and spellbinds you.

Entertainment journalist Clint West, Rachel's best friend of fifteen years, hadn't seen her in two, and as the Staples Blimp began to touch down atop the roof of the Cloverfield Complex, the city's new gala social gathering complex for the pretty and the privileged, Clint steeled myself for a real push to the top of the line.

He was amongst a crowd teeming with the three "P"s: paparazzi, press, and public, glued together, a field of flesh, chatting, yelling, some even singing as they listened to their c.d players, trying to drown out the mayhem with melody. He tried to drown out the noise himself with ear-plugs, letting his sight and smell be his sole means of sense.

The blimp landed, the noise grew louder. Applause from the public, inquiry from the press, yelling from the paparazzi as their gaze was obstructed by both press and people. All these forms of communication ignited, the excitement shared in all of them never letting up. The hatch in the back of the blimp opened, a ramp stretched over the rooftop in the direction of the fire exit. Most of the crowd parted like the red sea, assembling to the left and the right of the blimp, but some stayed fixed on the centre, blocking the exit. Clint was among them.

"So far, so good" he thought.

It turned out to be wishful thinking .

As soon as the ramp came down, security exited the blimp and made their way towards the huddled centre still obstructing the exit. They joined in the stream of noise generated by the crowds, barking out instructions to one another and repeating those instructions to the audience, an instruction to move to the left and right and give way for the exiting stars and starlets.

Clint was amongst the voices, many of which were also press, that protested this. He made the case that he was here as part of Entertain-Night, the local gossip program in the area. He was tempted to also talk of his and Rachel's history, but was hesitant to do so, fearing he wouldn't be believed

Despite the protests, the security ensemble got their way and their path was completely cleared, allowing the Hollywood bigwigs to be rushed in a hurry to the fire exit and down into the depths of the complex.

Fifteen minutes would pass before a member of the security team came out to give the rest of the crowd the all clear to join the stars in the complex. In a matter of moments, the crowd began their shoving contest, each person trying to cut through the other, make their way down the stairs, and head into the complex's gala interior. Amongst them was Clint, who wasn't doing too bad a job getting where he wanted to go.

He rushed down the spiral staircase, through the open door, and into a luxurious, and very busy, hallway, alive with all kinds of activity. A lavish banquet table was set out in the canter. A dazzling disco was in full swing a few inches away from that.

"I'm spoiled for choice here" Clint thought, before turning his attention to the rumbling in his stomach

"First thing's first" he muttered to himself, and began to make a beeline for the large table to the north of the hall, the one carrying all the succulent food, from chicken wings, lavish servings of steak and gravy pie, roasted lamb, a true feast. Several bottles of fine champagne could also be found stuffed in an ice-coated bucket, topping off the deluxe presentation.

Clint didn't know where to begin. As he rubbed his hands in anticipation, a nearby waiter was keen to let him know WHEN to begin, as the timing was not yet to the evening's liking.

"Good sir, dinner is not ready yet, that comes after the fashion expo" the waiter spoke in a delicate, yet commanding, tone.

"Don't mind me, I'm the food critic" Clint replied, beaming with an insincere grin, he showed the waiter his press pass very quickly, hoping he wouldn't want to inspect it further.

"Surely your magazine can wait until everyone takes their turn" the waiter asked, before placing a hand on Clint's shoulder and ushering him away from the table.

"Now, would you like some kind of starter? We're serving hot Tomato, mango and Lemon soup" the waiter offered. Clint groaned. Expensive place, exotic tastes…too exotic for his tastes.

"I'll pass" Clint declined. The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving Clint to pout. His stomach continued to rumble.

Eager for distraction, he took out his personal recorder and began taking notes on the event, taking the time to comb the place for faces he recognized, hoping they would trip up and give him something to trend, but the night was so young, and with no rounds to kick anyone off, he found the process incredibly uninspiring.

He knew only one sighting could ignite his interest and excite him…and he didn't know when he would next catch a glimpse.

A glimpse of HER.

He cut through the wild disco that was going on nearby, and sat down at the bar. The bartender, a rosy, yet eccentric looking woman with spiked hair and over inflated grayish shoulder-pads, came up to serve him.

"What'll it be?" she asked

"Something that doesn't take all day, but lasts a while" Clint replied

"You look kinda unsettled" the woman observed

"I'm expecting dinner" Clint said

"Ah, the impatient type, I know what'll keep you going." she replied, and poured him something branded as "_Light Spring_" on the label. Clint looked at it, staring intently at the clear liquid inside the glass.

"You're giving me mountain water?" Clint replied, not even masking his disappointment.

This seemed to set the Barmaid off on one.

"You think I'm going to give an impatient guy shots of the long haul stuff? Dream on" she angrily responded "This is a gala event, a big social gathering, the last thing we need is an unsocial incident"

"Sorry, didn't mean to light any fires" Clint said. The Bartender accepted his apology, and made a case for her own abrupt behavior.

"Yeah, I'm not exactly perky myself" she explained, "It's been a long day of preparation for everyone, just afraid it'll all come crashing down"

"You shouldn't worry about the sky coming down on your heads, not when you have the stars all lit up in this cozy room" Clint said, trying to reassure her

"Thanks, you're sweet" the woman replied.

Clint took a sip of the mountain water. He could have downed it all in one gulp, but he wasn't in too foul a mood to be unfair to the barmaid's hospitality.

The barmaid analyzed Clint, taking an interest in the press pass attached to his brown jacket.

"Entertain-Night huh? That mean you got a first class seat" She said.

"Well it better be the best for the first class fatale I came to see" Clint replied, taking out his wallet to pay for the drink. As he opened it, his eyes took notice of an old photograph stashed in the middle.

He took it out and smiled, the photo consisted of him, Rachel Trix, both at a younger age, locked in a sweet embrace.

"Giving thanks for the memories?" The barmaid asked as Clint let the nostalgia wash over him. Clint brought himself down to Earth to respond

"Yeah, just…simpler times, you know? Before the bright lights, before the scheduling, we had all the time life could afford, all the space the world could give us"

The barmaid would have been mesmerized like any other over such a sweet story, but her gaze was fixated on a third party in the photo, a woman standing next to Clint and Rachel, her hair jet black, her arms folded, with a faint, yet fairly warm smile.

"Say, that girl there looks awfully familiar, I'm sure I've seen her on the news" The barmaid responded. Almost immediately, Clint went on the defensive

"It's noone, just an old friend who went out of range a long time ago" Clint explained, but the barmaid's mind was already racing, trying to put together a picture puzzle together in her head, recollecting bulletins, photographs…and names.

It wasn't long before one name in particular sprang up.

"Hey" she said as realization dawned on her, "you know…"

Before she could finish, Clint got up, choosing to give symbolism to the end of the conversation by downing the _Light Spring _mountain water in a single gulp. He placed some cash on the table and checked his watch.

"You'll have to excuse me doll, the fashion show is about to start" he said, and quickly sped away, stashing the photograph back into his wallet.

Old memories would have to wait. New ones were waiting to happen.

He made his way to a row of seats in the front of the hall, all arranged in front of a large catwalk. As a journalist and a personal friend of one of the attractions, he made the most of his perks, managing to score a cushy seat in the front row next to fellow journalists and some corporate bigwigs.

A short man whose tuxedo made him look not unlike a well rehearsed Penguin wobbled over to the stage and welcomed the restless audience to the presentation that was being prepped for their entertainment this evening.

"Ladies, gentlemen of all walks of entertainment, welcome to the Galaxy Pictures Fashion Expo. In just a few minutes, some of our best, our most beautiful, stars will parade down this aisle showcasing the finest outfits from their respective fashion designer labels. It's up to each of you to decide in your numbers who the winning design and model is, with the prize money going to the charity of their choosing" the man explained, in the audience, the men were more than eager for the show to begin, and begin yelling misogynistic catcalls. Some of the wives in the crowd couldn't help but groan.

Clint laughed, all the more meat for his paper's readers.

"Now, let the show begin!" he bellowed, the male portion of the audience roared in approval.

And out they poured, a world-class roster of talent, the most desirable divas of the big screen spread out across the catwalk, sporting the most exotic and radical outfits designed by sleepless, creative, and dynamic tailors. Each outfit complimented the women's electric facial appearances, the heavy mix of make-up, scarlet lipstick, and razor-sharp eyeliner made each of them seem like they were randomly selected from other planets.

"Some show huh?" a bigwig spectator next to Clint asked, caught up in the moment.

"Alight with all the right kinds of electricity" Clint replied.

"My money is on Alexis Frenz" the bigwig revealed, pointing to the fifth actress of the roster on stage, "A crack shot on the independent scene, was nominated for her role in "Fifteen Stairs", a real eye-opener that one. Who's your pick?"

Clint looked through the teeming roster, he hoped something magical could happen, that he could easily pick out his choice. He didn't expect to.

Then, as if some higher power took pity on him and deposited her into his lap from the heavens, he spotted his girl.

"There. There." he said, excitedly, "Rachel Trix. Second star to the right"

And there she was, attired in a sparkling black and purple cape, with a silver dress partially concealed beneath it, Rachel Trix took to the catwalk, absorbing the cheers and applause from the audience.

Clint was amongst the cheerleaders, Rachel truly deserved the adulation, she had been through a lot for her age. It was a miracle that the only "downs" in her life were to do with her family tree's not-so-spotless reputation where the law was concerned

Her father was, at least once upon a time, the respected scientist Dr. Byrne Trix, a pioneer in his field, and developer of the P.D.S: The Projector Defense System an orbiting tractor beam designed to latch onto chunks of space debris and successfully catapult, or "project", the debris to safe distances.

Times, however, fell hard on Byrne.

Years of compulsive gambling began to take its toll, and he began dipping into his funding to pay his debts. He was caught and sentenced to fifteen years on one of the lunar penal colonies.

Rachel coped by focusing on an interest in method acting, healing herself psychologically while giving those watching her on the screen something to think about, something to be captivated by.

A father's misstep creating cemented footprints on the Hollywood walk of fame.

A story worthy of a movie in itself.

As Rachel eyed up her competition in front of her, she dismissed them with a somewhat overconfident shrug. She looked into the crowd. Clint tried to get up, but the hungry photographers for rival magazines cut in front of him. As they prayed for a pose. Rachel and a few of the other actresses were all too happy to indulge them, much to the chagrin of the fashion show's coordinator.

Clint sat down and folded his arms. He was in a sour mood. His best friend was soaking up the limelight and he didn't have any chance of sharing a fraction of it.

As he scanned around his surroundings, trying to entertain himself as best he could by spotting people familiar in the industry and taking notes in his head, he spotted a man in a bright, blockish yellow outfit was standing to the distant right of him, talking into some kind of wristwatch attached to his sleeve. Clint instantly recognized him.

It wasn't hard to spot one of the world-renowned Centurions from a mile off.

"Jake Rockwell" Clint uttered, recognizing the Centurion specialist in land operations. "What's he doing here?"

Rockwell seemed to have his eyes trained on the catwalk. Was his assignment have anything to do with the beauties on stage currently?

Clint's curiosity was at an all time high, and he was eager to get something out of this fresh angle. He moved out of his seat and tried making his way through the activity to try and get closer to the Centurion.

Rachel caught a glimpse of Clint's diverted attention, and tried calling out to him

"Mss Trix, could I get a shot please?" a photographer asked.

"Oh ok, but make it quick and painless" Rachel replied, posing for a shot.

"Trust me ma'am, this shot will knock everyone out" the photographer said, and pressed the shutter.

A large wisp of gas suddenly emitted from the camera, engulfing the entire area. As everyone began to react, Clint caught sight of Jake Rockwell storming the stage, rushing towards someone. He turned to the right and saw him dart into the dodgy mists, which blinded him to what was going on.

Until a starlet's scream chilled him to the bone.

"Rachel" Clint said, able to recognize his friend merely from the scream she had utilized for so many film roles that demanded performance from her.

Without thinking about how his vision would be impaired within the smog, Clint headed on stage and entered the thick cloud. All around him the mass of celebrity personalities and glamorous movie models screamed and hollered as panic set in.

Bodies toppled over one another and slipped off of the stage as everyone lost in the smog tried to unsuccessfully navigate themselves through it.

Determined and focused, Clint allowed patience to guide his mood, refusing to lose his temper. He journeyed through the smog, going from one side of the stage to the other, calling out Rachel's name, hoping there would be a reply.

But through all of this there was no sign of her.

Or, for that matter, Jake Rockwell.

Clint finally exited the wisps of smog, emerging on the opposite side of the stage. He took out a handkerchief and coughed into it, as he did so, he caught a glimpse of a fire exit door that had been forced open. Having a hunch, he went through the exit.

The exit led outside to a small alleyway, the cool air helped to sooth his shot nerves. The temperature in the complex had been quite stuffy and almost airtight, it felt good to be out in the free breeze again.

Clint heard a series of familiar, slightly muffled yells. With the hope that he wasn't too late fresh in his mind, he ran to the source of the noise as quickly as he could, darting out of the alleyway.

Unfortunately, once he got to the main street, he realized that he was too late.

There, standing in the middle of the street, was Jake Rockwell, the lone Centurion, facing down a shady character in a ten gallon hat, brandishing a weapon that was emitting some sort of laser whip.

Behind him, two more men were loading a bound and gagged Rachel into the back of a black hummer. Clint took one look at this and was incensed.

"Get away from her" Clint yelled, and ran out into the street, this distracted Jake, who was almost hit by a lash of the electro-whip. He was able to turn his attention back to it just in time to avoid a direct hit by jumping to the side.

Clint cut past him, trying to get to Rachel, but he ran directly in front of the man brandishing the electro-whip, who tried to take a lethal swing at the journalist. Jake however grabbed him and yanked him out of harm's way.

The man with the whip turned to his companions and, without saying a word, conveyed a simple command with a nod of his head. The remaining men nodded in compliance and, sealing the back of the car's trunk shut, trapping Rachel inside, they clambered into the car and took off down the road at top speed, leaving Jake and Clint alone against their intimidating adversary.

"Stay out of the way cowboy, let's not be playing hero when the professional is at work" Jake said, and threw Clint to the side.

The man wielding the laser whip again tried to take shots at Jake, who somersaulted over several of the shots, before finally lunging for his foe's legs, successfully tackling him, Jake took the weapon from the man, turned it off and smacked him clean across the face with it, knocking him out.

"That's some killer gymnastics Centurion" remarked Clint, Jake ignored him, concentrating on the car that was hastily vanishing down the road and vanishing into the busy traffic.

Jake pressed a button on the communicator attached to his wrist, as it flared into life, the features of a red-headed female appeared on the communicator's video screen.

"Crystal, they've managed to nab Trix" Jake reported, "They're currently on the move, I'm gonna need Wild Weasel if I'm to gain any kind of ground on them"

"I'll send it your way Jake" replied Crystal Kane, "I'll also contact our reliable source and see if we can get any detail on where they might possibly be heading, provided you fail to catch up with them"

"I don't intend to be left in the dust on this one red" Jake replied. Crystal nodded, understanding his determination to succeed

Jake gestured for Clint to stay back. Clint complied.

Jake stretched out his arms, embracing the heavens, he spread his legs slightly and with a thunderous cry of "POWER X-TREME" was bathed in a bright yellow light.

Clint briefly shielded his eyes, but as he braved the allure of the light, he could see large chunks of armor descend from the heavens and interlock with the ports on the Centurion's uniform.

Before long, the Centurion was dressed from head to toe in a large shaft of metal with several wheels mounted on it

"Stay here" he said to Clint, and began to kneel down. As he did so, the long shaft of metal covered his face and sides, transforming him into a living one-man motorcycle. The wheels on the weapon system roared, and Jake Rockwell careered down the road in pursuit of Rachel's kidnappers, leaving Clint in the dust

Clint, however, wasn't about to lose sight of the Centurion, his best friend, or a guaranteed front page exclusive for his magazine, and he quickly signaled for a cab.

"Follow that Weasel and don't stop for nothing" Clint instructed to the cab driver, pointing to the rapidly disappearing Centurion. The driver, suspecting a big fee to come out of this, eagerly put his foot on the pedal, and the cab drove down the lane in pursuit as fast as it could.

The chase proved a daunting task for both the pursued and the pursuer. It was late in the evening and a lot of vehicles were out in sheer numbers, their passengers all coming home after a hard day of work, the last thing they needed was a little extra excitement.

Whether they liked it or not, excitement was on the cards, as the car carrying the captive Rachel tore through the streets and cut through the traffic lights, trying desperately to evade the pursuing Centurion, who was followed closely by the cab. The cabby wanted to stop, but Clint's offer of an extra few thousand credits was all it took to persuade a good measure of law-breaking. The cab remained hot on the trail of the other two road warriors.

Veering left and right and cutting through at least two more traffic lights, the driver of the car did all he could to leave the trail cold for his pursuers, but Jake was gradually closing in. Eventually, Wild Weasel and the car were side by side.

"Melbourne, get up top and waste him" the driver instructed to his friend. The man known as Melbourne nodded in compliance and, laser rifle in hand, he opened up a small compartment in the roof of the vehicle, enabling him to climb up.

He took careful aim at the Centurion and let loose a series of laser blasts. Though Wild Weasel was able to dodge many of the shots, it became clear the blasts were serving to supply some distance between the car and Jake.

Jake opted to return fire, firing at the car with Wild Weasel's own guns. Melbourne ducked as the shots were fired, and the delay in exchanging firepower enabled the Centurion to regain ground.

Melbourne reemerged, eager to try his luck once again at taking out the Centurion. A keen eye and a swift mind soon supplied him with a plan of action as the cab carrying Clint caught up to them and drove straight up to Jake's side. Melbourne aimed his rifle, took a careful shot, waited for Jake to fall a little bit behind to where the front wheels of the cab were in targeting position, and swiftly pulled the trigger.

The blast tore through the wheel of the cab, causing it to spin out of control and collide with Jake, leaving both parties in a heap.

Melbourne laughed and went back inside the car

"Go forward, we're in the clear and then some" he said. His friend laughed, and they sped away into the night.,

Clint emerged from the remnants of the cab, trying to get his bearings, when he suddenly looked up, and saw the full frame and fury of the Centurion he had hampered. Jake stepped out of the risen weapon system, and grabbed Clint by his coat, lifting him high above his shoulders, his eyes full of sharp, venomous focus, a clear axe to grind.

"Don't spare a second coming up with ways to excuse yourself" Jake said, "You have no idea what you've made me lose"

"And you have no idea of what I stand to lose" Clint replied, not intimidated by the Centurion's raw fury. "Rachel Trix is one of my oldest friends, I was just trying to keep her safe"

"She was in safe hands with me, 'till you got too nosy" Jake replied, tightening his hold on Clint, "Now I'm going to have to place all my betting chips on someone I don't like risking the dice with?"

"What do you mean by that" Clint asked. Jake sighed and dropped him to the ground as he spotted the cab driver coming out of the cab.

He surveyed the damage and despaired at the wreck.

"Don't worry sir, you'll be compensated" Jake assured, "My treat"

Jake contacted Crystal on his communicator and requested Wild Weasel be beamed back to the orbiting space station Sky Vault, and relayed to her the results of his unsuccessful chase.

"Do you want me to try and trust Plan A?" Crystal replied

"Looks like we have no choice" Jake replied, "Tell our source what's happened and await any potential information, in the meantime I'll try and get and keep this cookie from playing another round of Crazy Taxi" he added, giving Clint a cold glare.

Crystal nodded and the screen went blank. Just a few moments later, Wild Weasel was beamed away.

Jake walked over to Clint and sat down beside him, as he did so, he caught sight of Clint's press pass.

"Just my luck, a pest plucked from the ivory towers of Perez Hilton. I can expect _My Blunder: the E True Hollywood story_ in the near future Jake said, and gave the pass back to Clint.

"Believe me, I wouldn't want to give my part in your mishap any big publicity" Clint replied, "We need never speak of it again as long as you can get Rachel back" he added.

"We've covered most of Rachel's social network, you don't seem to be on the grid that much where she's concerned " Jake replied, "Are you sure you're not yanking my chain just to get a story?"

"I don't like to make a big fuss out of my friendship with her" Clint explained, "Besides, history has kind of forced me to lie low, due in part to the company I kept in a different age"

"What are you getting at?" Jake asked.

Clint pulled out his wallet and took out the picture of the younger Rachel, himself, and one other. Jake examined it, and found himself struck with slight awe.

"Well may the great wind blow me to Oz" Jake said as he recognized the person

The moment was interrupted by Jake's communicator coming to life again as Crystal appeared to convey information to him.

"Good news Jake, our source says Rachel's kidnappers have fled to a nightclub just south of the city called the Cattle Fish, I've already pinpointed the co-ordinates so I can beam you there instantly"

"Better make it two for transport Crystal" Jake said, looking at Clint. Clint was surprised.

"Really?" Crystal asked

" I've got a feeling this guy may provide a good bit of leverage in keeping our source on our side" Jake said. Crystal nodded in compliance

Clint approached Jake, "A lot of faith to put in a guy you've only known for seconds"

"You're an active link to someone's past and we need all the assurances we can get to ensure Rachel's future" Jake said, "Now hang on tight, if you're not new to teleportation, this can get bumpy"

The two were soon immersed in a glowing red light and, before the cabby's startled eyes, both vanished.

The two reemerged south of the city, near a darkly lit and downtrodden building with a barely functional neon sign above it reading "_Cattle Fish_".

"We're here Crystal, but the place is jumping. Not a good place to visit if you're wearing this particular uniform" Jake explained.

"Our source is inside the building, stationed at table five just to the left of the entrance, I'm sending you a disguise" Crystal replied.

Within instants, a briefcase was beamed d to Jake and Clint's location, Jake opened it to reveal a long green trench coat, tiny moustache and hat.

Putting it on, he turned back to Clint and tore his press pass off his jacket

"Let's not give anyone too close to us a reason to shy away" Jake said, Clint nodded, understanding the need for secrecy. Keeping his friendship with Rachel low profile would allow him to move about without a disguise, but the pass wouldn't have gotten them any closer to finding or rescuing her.

The two entered the club. Almost instantly, they were repelled by the sheer sight and size of it, it, for the place had the look and feel of a rank toilet. The smell of raw fish being served as a delicacy, the heavy stench of smoke from the seedy mass of shady customers, and the sharp ear-piercing shrill of bad turns at karaoke were enough to make Jake and Clint storm out in some form of protest in the name of pure decency.

Spotting their contact at the fifth table, just as Crystal had described, they walked over to it and approached the person sitting at the end of it, a woman, with black hair, dressed in a grey and purple jumpsuit, her gaze was fixed on a menu she had in her hand.

"Go for the caviar, it's the stuff of riches for poor souls like you" Jake said. The woman reached for a glass of water and downed it all in one gulp, then looked up at him

"Jake Rockwell" said Amber Terror, resting her chin on her hands, keeping her sight fixed on him as she recognized his voice, "I'd never have expected a master of land operations to be so adrift in his element"

"I had car trouble" Jake remarked, and pointed to Clint, "Normally I'd be a gentleman and introduce you, but from what I've been shown, I think you two know each other by heart"

"Hi Amber" Clint said.

"Oh my word...Clint West, is that you?" Amber replied in shock.

"Now I get why you opt not to bask in Rachel's limelight with the rest of her click" Jake said.

"This is...unexpected" Amber said, as she pondered what to do, "What is it you want Clint?"

"Gee Amber, you only went and hung out with me and Rachel Trix back in our freshmen days at college, and Rachel just _happened_ to be kidnapped, what else do you think could bring me here?"

"This complicates things, I told my father I was expecting an extra "investor" that would oversee his project" Amber explained

"Then that "investor" is going to have company" Clint said. "I'm not going anywhere 'till we get Rachel back, that is, IF we can trust the daughter of a man wanted the world over in Doc Terror"

Amber put her finger to her mouth and urged Clint to pipe down, "Keep calm Clint so long as you can manage that, I will see what I can do about tagging you along"

Clint nodded, and the two of them sat down beside Amber to discuss their plans.

"So you three hung out together? Usually you're the one with an UN-social network Amber" Jake replied

"Just as there was a time when my father was an upstanding figure in the scientific community, I was an innocent young woman making her way through the education system's rich offerings. When my father's ideas were rejected by the world science council, I chose to abandon those pursuits, knowing they would only twist me into someone as warped and as ignorant as those who had mocked my father, I did not the world's approval"

"Or your friends period" Clint remarked

"Just because I chose to follow my father's path does not mean I severed my links to the past. Circumstances such as my father declaring war on those that had embarrassed and wronged him prevented me from ever contacting those I left behind, for fear it would lead to my capture, I feared I may be used to bring my father to whatever warped sense of justice is known to society"

"So why are you sticking your neck out for us now? If your father's behind Rachel's kidnapping, why defy him?" Clint asked

"I never wanted my past to merge with my present, the pain would be too great, alas Rachel's own past has provided my father with an opportunity to bring his own sense of justice on the world, and I fear he may be so desperate to initiate this mission that he will inflict great harm on her. I can't risk her being hurt because of me, as much as I love my father, there are times where his rage has blinded his vision, and in those times of great distress, I must find a way to awaken his rationality once more"

"Amber has aided us before" Jake explained, "What Terror lacks in a moral compass, she's usually what brings him down to whatever hold on Earth he has"

"Ok, so it's settled, you'll help us rescue Rachel, that's fine" Clint said, "The real meat of the matter is...what does Terror want with her?"

Before Amber could answer, the three of them were swiftly interrupted by a lumbering, bald, partially cybernetic brute of a man, it was Doc Terror's top aide Hacker.

"The Doc's ready to start, he wants you present, is that investor coming or not?"

Amber pointed to Jake, "he is here with his loyal bodyguard, he won't go anywhere unless flanked by him" she explained

Hacker huffed, "Whatever" he said, "Let's go"

Hacker led the three to the back of the club's cool storage compartment, which stunk of fish. Jake held his nose whilst Clint tried holding his breath.

The four of them entered another room which stored the frozen meat, in the center of the room was a desk with a computer laptop on top of it, the two heavies that Jake was pursuing earlier, a bound Rachel Trix, a few robot servants surrounding her, and, standing close to her, was the Centurion's arch-enemy, Amber's father, Doc Terror himself.

"Father, meet the investor I was talking about, a mister Arnold Smyth" Amber said, quickly conjuring up a cover name for the disguised Centurion.

"A pleasure to have you company Mr. Smyth" Terror replied, "You're just in time for my little brush with star-gazing, which the young Mss Trix will assist me with"

"What do I have to do with anything? Let me go" Rachel said, struggling to unitie herself. Terror grabbed her face and squeezed it, she squirmed. Clint felt like springing into action, but he was told to keep his cool by Jake.

"Your father recently gave you a gift for your big night out" Terror replied, examining one of the two earrings attached to her ear very closely, "Special earrings he carved out in the prison workshop, earrings that contained two key pieces of information I require to carry out my plan"

He grabbed the right earring, but it remained fixed to the spot, Terror analyzed the gold image engraved on it, that of a small satellite orbiting a representation of Planet Earth, with stars of varying sizes surrounding it.

Terror walked over to her other side and examined the other earring, this one containing a series of numbers etched on it: 4,7,8,3,0.

"My agents in prison got in touch with your father, and while he would never let you see the damage in his many letters to you, prison had left him an embittered and angry man, eager to exact revenge on the people that had created the problems which drove him to desperation, and eventually his own undoing. Through my agents stationed on the lunar prison I was able to influence that vengeful, spiteful side, and convinced him that there would be no better revenge than by using the device he had created to ensure safety from the stars, and molding into a harbinger of doom"

Terror walked over to the laptop and examined a large map of the stars on it, he typed in the numbers from his examination of the earring.

"The location of the P.D.S is known only to those a few people in the space traffic program as well as your father, His unique photographic memory enabled him to remember it's location to the point he was able to covey it in an illustration, which he put into those fancy trinkets he instructed you to wear at tonight's gala event, following my instructions to the letter. I can easily take this image and identify which sector of space it is located in, and type in the information into my computer program as specific co-ordinates.

Your left earring contains the safety protocols I require to bypass the P.D.S firewall, and enable the special viral frequency I have developed to transmit across a sub-space signal, which now carries the location's co-ordinates, allowing me to take control of the P.D.S and do with it as I please. The P.D.S will be used not to find and cast aside chunks of space debris into the distant recesses of space, instead it will now bring them crashing down onto populated areas of the planet"

"Forgive me for nitpicking just a little Mr. Terror" Jake said in his odd, thinly-disguised accent, "Why didnt you just take her earrings while she was getting changed in her dressing room? Why was the kidnapping necessary?" he asked.

"I can answer that" Rachel said, "My father told me the earrings were specifically designed as grafters, they're specially encoded to my body, only I can remove them, . If any attempt was made to pry them off by force, r, it would send out a signal to the police" she explained, "The earrings were sent to me from my father under the guise of a gift, the note attached to them said that putting the earrings on the night of the event would make me feel special. I'm ashamed now to grasp just how special I am"

"Byrne Trix may have a deeply disturbed and angry mind, but his heart still beats with a father's love. By giving her grafter jewelry he ensured that I would have no choice but to take Rachel into my custody, and thus keep her out of harms way when I began to use the P.D.S to rein destruction down on any portion of the planet I choose"

"Please father, you have what you want, now you can let Rachel go" Amber said, "Give her to me and I will make sure she is taken care of"

"No my dear, I know you are motivated greatly by your friendship of years past with this woman, I fear your judgment will be clouded if you are given the opportunity to care for her. Hacker will give her all the attention necessary, and she will be our prisoner until such time as Dr. Trix is released"

"But that will take years" Rachel said

"At least you get to spend a whole age away from the pressures brought by your peers and the press" Terror joked.

Hacker approached Rachel with a gleeful look on his face.

"I've always wanted a taste of Hollywood" he said, licking his lips.

At this point, Clint lost it.

"Get away from her you hulking hench-borg" he said, rushing towards Terror's sinister sidekick, Hacker swatted him aside. Jake rushed over to him, Clint sprang up, elbowing Jake, causing his moustache to fall off. Hacker instantly recognized him

"A centurion" he said.

"If anything, at least now I can drop that dopey accent" Jake said

"Funny, I would rather prefer you just drop" Terror replied, and instructed his robotic cohorts to open fire. Jake dodged the blasts and ducked behind a nearby crate.

The two hoods who had brought Rachel to the club took out their weapons and walked over to the crate, but they were knocked over by a large ton of cold beef dislodged by Clint.

"Where's the beef? It's all on you" Clint joked.

He was, however, soon surrounded by Hacker and Terror's robots.

"Crystal, I need some heavy artillery" Jake said as he took note of Clint's plight.

"Assembling Fireforce now" Crystal said, putting together the most compact of Jake's assault weapon systems, but one that was just as serviceable in the field.

With a flick of the switch, she beamed it down.

"POWER X-TREME" Jake yelled as Fireforce materialized around him and interlocked with his suit. He emerged from behind the crate and instructed Clint to duck as he activated his plasma repulesers tore into the robots, destroying them.

Hacker tried approaching him, but the Centurion aimed the rocket attached to his backpack at Terror, Clint grabbed Rachel and untied her.

"Don't either one of you make the slightest move" Jake said.

Terror gave Amber a cold glare.

"You were either tricked or you brought the Centurion here deliberately" he said.

"Forgive me father, I owe my past _some _measure of happiness " she replied.

"No matter, you're too late, my virus will soon take control of the P.D.S. The problem is, without me to guide it, the virus will, after a twenty second delay awaiting further encoding from me instructing it on which city to target, will go into business for itself and cause the P.D.S to lash out at any orbiting chunk of space debris and deposit it in any random area at whim"

"Going to be a long wait, there hasn't been any such sign of debris in the last couple of weeks, we have all the time in the world to put that thing out of commission"

"Don't be too sure" Terror said, and told Jake to examine the laptop's graph. Jake complied, looking at several red dots heading north where the P.D.S was located.

"What are those blips?" Jake said

"A small squadron of Doom Drone Strafers carrying with them an old derelict satellite, they have been programmed to deposit it near the P.D.S and open fire on it, splintering it into several pieces, thus creating sizeable debris that the P.D.S will lock onto and toss down to the Earth courtesy of the instructions of my viral encoding"

"Easily fixed, all I need do is shut this thing down from this end" Jake said and contacted Crystal "Red, can you tap into this computer's mainframe and pinpoint the P.D.S exact location and intercept Terror's viral signal before it infects the Projector?"

"It's a good thing you kept your com-link on silent running so we could overhear everything Jake" Crystal replied, "This should only take a few moments"

Terror nodded to Hacker, who unleashed an energy blast from his wrecking ball sidearm, Jake jumped back as the blast tore into the laptop, destroying it.

"You half-baked hoodlum" Jake said

"Now nothing can be done to cut my virus off. You have twenty seconds Centurion, and I doubt you can do much whilst gravity remains your prisoner" Terror taunted.

"Maybe not me, but we've had others on standby" Jake said, and talked to Crystal over his com-link, "Get your boyfriend to blast off Crystal, provided you have enough info to go on"

"On it Jake" Crystal replied, and turned to address Ace McCloud, who was one step ahead of her and already heading to the beaming pod

"I was able to pinpoint the location of the P.D.S, but Terror's system was terminated before I could counter the virus, you're going to have to destroy it when you get there Ace" Crystal said

"I'm the cure for the computer cold sweetheart" Ace said, "Hook me up with a combination of Skybolt and Orbital Interceptor, I'm going to have company out there"

"I love the way you and I think skyboy" Crystal said, and blew a kiss at the Centurion she loved. Ace climbed into the beaming pod and was soon whisked away, with Skybolt and Orbital Interceptor following him

"POWER X-TREME" Ace yelled as the two weapon systems connected and interlocked with him.

He was in for a struggle as soon as he materialized near the P.D.S, as the Strayfers dispatched the old satellite and destroyed it as Terror instructed. This left Ace with three tasks instead of just the one.

With just several seconds left, Ace did his best in an orbital dogfight with the strayfers, ducking blasts and tricking some of them to crash into nearby asteroids, before taking some out with carefully timed laser blasts.

As the P.D.S began to fire up and prepare to latch on to chunks of the old satellite's remnants, Ace locked onto the system and fired a missile directly at it, it hit the bulls eye and destroyed the projector before it could do any damage to the planet.

"Now that's what I call timely intervention" Ace joked in regards to his precision in dealing with the crisis, and he turned around to do battle with the remaining Strafers.

When he was done, Ace contacted Crystal

"It's going to be a clear sky this night gorgeous" Ace said, "Though I can't guarantee every night will be now that we've taken out of our top solutions to dodging space traffic"

"Not to worry Ace, we have Byrne Trix's blueprints on file, we can easily build another one, and this time we'll firewall it thoroughly so this sort of thing never happens again" Crystal replied.

Back at the club, Clint and Rachel were celebrating.

"What a scoop, the capture of the elusive Doc Terror, and a story that'll make you Centurions the talk of tinsel town for decades to come" Clint said, "And all thanks to Amber, I have to admit, you really came through for us, I guess deep down you're still our friend"

Clint looked at Jake, his face was stern, there was no trace of joy on his expression.

"Hey, what's with the gloom?" he said, "We won right? We can all leave in one peice and everything can be at peace right?"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible Clint" Amber said "As part of my agreement to help you ensure Rachel's safety, I was promised that my father be allowed to escape should his plan be thwarted by the Centurions"

"And you expect them to keep their word?" Clint asked.

Amber produced a device from her pocket, "If they break their promise, I have instructed a squadron of Strafers to attack a populated area" she said.

Terror and Hacker walked over to Amber. Terror delicately put his hand on Amber's shoulder

"While you will still be punished for your act of defiance this day, I am proud of your power play my dear" he said.

"Leave him Amber" a frustrated Jake insisted, walking up to Amber and clutching her hands tightly, "You could be of great help to the Centurions if you just gave us some kind of inkling of how Terror operates"

"I cannot Jake" Amber explained, "While my hold on my father can be occasionally loosened, I cannot abandon him to the wolves of this world"

"Your father knows all about that, he's one of this planet's most dangerous predators, caging him would do us all a world of good" Jake continued, hoping Amber would see the light "I know you have a heart hidden beneath those icy veins of yours. You know when Terror goes too far. See it that way permanently, don't just do it for your old friends, or even for me, do it for yourself"

Amber sighed and kissed Jake on the cheek, before letting go of his hands.

"In a perfect world Jake, we would be an unbeatable team, and perhaps something more" Amber said, "But as long as there is Terror in the world, we must remain splintered by the lightning".

She talked into Jake's communicator. Crystal appeared on the screen.

"Stay true to our agreement Ms. Kane, I have done my part" she said.

"We will beam you to your ship" Crystal assured her.

Amber took one last long look at Jake, her eyes conveying a message of regret, and even some compassion. Before anything more could be said between them, Amber vanished in a shimmer of light as she was beamed away.

Exiting the club, now swarming with police, Clint and Rachel hugged one another, happy to have survived the ordeal.

"You ok Mr. Rockwell?" Clint asked as he noticed how distant the Centurion was.

"Yeah" Jake said, looking out at the stars, catching a glimpse of something moving in the distance.

To anyone else, it was Terror's airship, it's passengers safely on board, making their getaway.

To Jake, the ship contained a soul that burned bright with energy and ambition, and one that didn't have long for the world so long as it travelled down it's chosen road.

He feared the day would come where that potential light that shined beneath the blackness surrounding her would be extinguished.

And how dark things would get if it did.

And he knew, even if that day came, he would continue to fight to keep the light in this world from ever going out.

He watched the ship fade from view, until it became just a speck in his gaze.

Just the second star to the right.

**THE END**

* * *

**CENTURIONS FACTS:**

"Currently about 19,000 pieces of debris larger than 5 cm are tracked,] with another 300,000 pieces smaller than 1 cm below 2000 km altitude. For comparison, ISS orbits in the 300–400 km range and both the 2009 collision and 2007 antisat test events occurred at between 800–900 km.

Most space debris is less than 1 cm (0.39 in), including dust from solid rocket motors, surface degradation products such as paint flakes, and coolant released by ROSAT nuclear-powered satellites. Impacts of these particles cause erosive damage, similar t sandblasting. Damage can be reduced with "Whipple Shield" which, for example, protects some parts of the International Space Station. However, not all parts of a spacecraft may be protected in this manner, e.g. solar panels and optical devices (such as telescopes, or star trackers. and these components are subject to constant wear by debris and micrometeoroids. The flux of space debris is greater than meteoroids below 2000 km altitude for most sizes circa 2012"

-Crystal Kane


End file.
